


TEDDY BEAR TALES 2: Dream On A Winter Solstice

by roryheadmav



Series: THE TEDDY BEAR TALES [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Crossover, Highlander - Freeform, M/M, Mpreg, Slash, sandman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-12-19
Updated: 1998-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desire is up to his/her old tricks and decides to play a devilish game with the new embodiment of Dream (Daniel) together with Despair and Delirium. The object of their game: The Immortal Duncan MacLeod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ADDITIONAL WARNING! This story is the second in THE TEDDY BEAR TALES series. In case you missed seeing the tags, this is an MPREG tale. So please don't read this if you're easily offended by stories of this nature.

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

       An actor once said that it always rains in Seacouver. Whether he meant it derogatorily, one would never know since he has left the cool Canadian climes for sunny Los Angeles. However, the weather was not the reason why Desire, Despair and Delirium of the Endless tended to avoid the city like the plague. Seacouver was bustling with activity of the Immortal variety. No, not the kind of eternal life they and their four other siblings possessed. The other kind, the one which began with a capital "I". Those beings who lived to fight other Immortals in a seemingly never-ending battle for heads and Quickenings so that, in the end, there can be only one. One what? Not even Destiny, with his dusty book of future's mysteries knew the answer to this question.

        Godlings, these Immortals were. "Princes of the Universe", they were called. But one Immortal in particular shone brighter than all the rest, a delectable fruit waiting to be plucked. Bad weather and any other unpleasant conditions aside, it was this star-like being who finally drew the three youngest siblings of the Endless to the city.

        "Dream," called Desire, "I am not in my gallery, nor do I hold your sigil in my hand. But your sisters and I summon you. Come to us!"

        From the brick framework of the store behind them, Dream materialized, clad in a gleaming white shirt of gossamer silk, pale jeans and white boots. Hanging from a gold chain around his neck was a large emerald. His tousled snowy mane was further ruffled by the gentle breeze. Though the expression on his pasty white face was unreadable, there was a twinkle within the fathomless dark hollows of his eyes as he gazed at his three sisters.

        "You have summoned me and I have come," he said in a voice as cold as the Arctic wind. "Speak your minds, sisters. There are still many things that need to be done in my kingdom."

        "Daniel, you are beginning to sound like your predecessor."

        "The child who was once Daniel Hall has been burned to ashes. That part of him that was immortal as was the aspect of Morpheus, the being who came before me, has been transfigured into what you see before you now. I am Dream of the Endless. No more, no less. You know that."

        "Yes, yes! We know that!" his sister declared flippantly. "But then, you should know that time does not mean it as they passed by. It was used to getting that kind of reaction. After all it was the embodiment of beauty, lust and seduction. "Surely you could spare a moment of your eternity to play a game with us."

        "Ah!" exclaimed Dream knowingly. "Another game! Don't you get tired of these things, Desire? I see you've even brought Despair and Delirium into this affair."

        "Because the prize is worth it," Despair replied in her raspy voice, oozing with doom and gloom. Compared to her beautiful twin, Despair was a ghoul, with her naked, blubbery body and corpse gray skin. The only adornment on her ghastly frame was the ring on her finger. But even the ring itself was a morbid thing because of the sharp hook rising from its coil.

        "And what is the prize?" he queried.

        "Not 'what', dear brother," answered Desire. "Who?"

        Dream turned his gaze in the direction Desire's slim finger pointed. Walking down the street was a tall, very handsome young man. He has the build and grace of a god. Pleasant of face, he has expressive dark brown eyes and full lips. His head was crowned with a glorious mane of sable hair, tied in one long braid that extended down his back, the curled end caressing his curvaceous buttocks. Carrying a small bag of groceries in his arms, he just ambled along the sidewalk. Dream knew immediately what he was.

        "He is an Immortal," the Lord of the Dreaming mused out loud. "It is not our place to interfere with their race. They write the books of their own lives."

        "I disagree with you, brother," countered Despair. "They are not exempt from the influence of the Endless."

        "There is a deep mind hurt in this one," said Dream, looking at the Immortal carefully. "The loss of innocence so pure, that to do this day, it still continues to haunt him. Nevertheless, there is something of the child that remains within him." His eyes narrowed as he turned to his sisters. "What is your plan? I do not want this exquisite creature to suffer anymore than he has."

        "The game is simple," was Desire's reply. "Despair, Delirium and I will entice him and lure him into our realms, to do with as we please. It is up to you, with your little dreams, to redeem him before one of us lays claim to him permanently. The game ends after the clock strikes twelve on the winter solstice. If you lose, you can no longer interfere in this Immortal's life."

        Dream gave his scheming younger sibling a piercing glare. "You would want such a magnificent being in your thrall, regardless of what this might do to him. Have you three not learned your lesson with Emperor Norton?"

        "You were lucky then," said Despair. "Now, we play to win."

        Their conversation was halted when they saw the young Immortal pause before their youngest sister, Delirium. Delirium had settled down on the pavement, thin legs, clad in frayed, multicolored stockings, stretched out. Part of her being had discorporated from her and transformed into tiny kittens of different shapes and sizes, playing all over her deceptively frail form.

       The Immortal got down to his knees, settling the bag down. Smiling, he said, "You have beautiful kittens. Are they all yours?"

        "Yup!" Delirium answered in her absent-minded way. "Some what! They kinda escaped from my essence and changed into these kitties when I wanted puppies. You know."

        "But they're just as pretty as puppies," he commented. Concerned, he asked, "Are you all alone? Where are your parents?"

        "My sisters and my brother are just talking. Nonsense stuff as usual. Do you know that if a kitten scratches you, you'll get these itchy red bumps like mosquito bites but they itch a lot worse because kittens have poison in their claws?"

        The young man picked up a kitten carefully in his hands. "I've heard of it but kittens, or cats for that matter, wouldn't scratch you if you're gentle with them."

        Delirium beamed, gazing up at that handsome face through her mismatched eyes. "You're very smart! I like you! What's your name?"

Smiling at her, he replied, "My name's Duncan. Duncan MacLeod."

        Taking his hand, Delirium shook it warmly. "It's nice to meet you, Duncan MacLeod! You can call me Del. If there is anything that you want and it's in my power to give, just ask and I'll grant it to you."

        Laughing, Duncan shook his head. "All I want is for you to be safe. This is not a nice neighborhood for a pretty young lass like you. Del, I think you should go to your brother and sisters."

        Her nose wrinkled up in distaste. "I don't like," she said stubbornly. "They always treat me like a kid, like I have nothing important to say. They don't know that I know a lot more than them."

        "Most grown-ups usually don't listen to what young people have to say. But you must be patient with them, Del. I'm sure they'll listen to you."

        "You sound like a dad, Duncan," Delirium commented then. "You must have lots and lots and lots of kids."

        At these words, a sad, wistful smile formed on the Immortal's face. It didn't escape the notice of Dream, Despair or Desire.

        "I don't have any children, Del," answered Duncan softly.

        "Why not? If I had a dad, I'd want him to be like you!"

        Running his fingers through her multicolored hair, he said, "And if I had a child, I'd like her to be just like you. But..." Duncan paused. His voice was choked with emotion as he whispered, "But it's not for me."

        "I see the game's afoot," Desire exclaimed in glee. "Well, Dream, shall you join us?"

        Dream thought for a moment, looking at the unhappy Immortal. Then, nodding his head, he said, "Very well! I'm in!"

 

        Desire smiled in amusement, seeing the Celtic prince sitting down on the hardwood floor of the loft with his long legs stretched out in a V. Between his legs, the kitten Delirium had given him sipped milk daintily from a saucer.

        "Look, Teddy!" Duncan scolded the staid teddy bear at his side. "Kitty eats a lot more than you do. You should eat, you hardheaded bear. You're getting thin."

        "Or maybe I just need to put more stuffing into him," a cheerful voice declared from the lift. As the man raised the gate, Desire saw that it was the 5,000 year old Immortal Methos. Methos was Duncan's lover.

        Quite a pair, these two are! it mused in glee. Both strong men. Both very beautiful. I'll have you two rutting in wild abandon later on.

        Duncan smiled sheepishly at Methos as the older man laid his jacket on the armchair. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

        "It's not as if you can help it," remarked the ancient, grinning at him reassuringly.

        Methos was well aware that the Highlander had not healed fully from the gunshot wound to the head he had suffered. True, he may have knitted him back together while they were linked in a Double Quickening. But the injury inflicted upon his mind by Aric and Cyrus was far more serious, not to mention the grievous hurt he himself had committed on the innocent young man before him.

        Still, Methos had to admit he liked the child Duncan would suddenly revert to. Though prone to babyish tantrums and pouting spells, he was kind, charming and very loving. It pleased him to know that he hadn't lost his Angel completely.

        "Where did the kitten come from?" Methos asked him.

        "A little girl gave her to me. She was sitting on the sidewalk with this kendle of kittens crawling all over her." Duncan paused, looking thoughtfully at his lover. "We had a talk. I think that's the reason why she gave me the kitten."

        Going to the kitchen, Methos began taking food out of the refrigerator. "I'll whip us up a couple of salads. Want anything else?"

        "No," the Scot replied. "A salad would be just fine."

        Seeing that the kitten had finished her milk, Duncan carefully picked her up. He took his place on a stool beside the kitchen counter, the kitten and the bear sitting on his lap.

        "So what did you talk about?" Judging from the younger man's uneasy silence, Methos knew the conversation Duncan had with the girl was troubling him.

        "Nothing really," he answered, clearly uncomfortable as he fidgeted in his seat. When the kitten gave an irritated cry at being squeezed a little too hard, Duncan caressed its graceful neck with the tip of his finger and lightly kissed the pink nose. Not looking at his lover, he continued, "Del was a bit misunderstood by her elder brother and sisters so I told her to be patient with them."

        "Ah! The dilemma of youth!" Methos exclaimed, waving a cucumber in emphasis. " The times may change but still the elders, who have completely forgotten that they too had been through the same thing before, will forever torment the young. It's a cycle, MacLeod. Give it a few years. Del's kids will be experiencing the same thing. What else did she say?"

        "That I was smart...and that I probably have lots of children."

        Methos looked suspiciously at the Scot, wondering where this talk was leading. "And what did you tell her?"

        "That I don't have children. That it wasn't for me." Duncan faced the elder Immortal. "Why can't we have children? Surely you know the reason."

        "No," Methos replied, shaking his head, as he began slicing two tomatoes. "I'm afraid I don't."

        "But we didn't just sprout out of the ground like mushrooms. Where do we come from? Who are our parents?"

        "I asked those questions once myself but I never found the answers to them. I just learned to accept the reality of this Immortal condition."

        The Highlander let out a sigh. "Methos, a lot of things have changed in my life. So many people I love are now gone. Richie...he was the closest thing to a son I've ever had. I feel like there's a part of me missing." Chocolate brown eyes gazed hopefully at the ancient. "Methos...I'd like to have a child."

        Hearing these words, Methos dropped the knife on the floor in surprise.

        Thinking his lover was angry, Duncan hastily stammered, "It's just a thought. I mean, it would be wonderful having a little boy or girl around the loft. Connor and Alex have a son. Methos, you've had children yourself."

        "Duncan," the older man began, trying to find the right words, "raising a child is a great responsibility. It's not the same as taking care of a little kitten."

        "Of course I know that!" Duncan retorted, offended. "Do you think I haven't given it much thought? I have all the means to provide for a child, Methos."

        "Yes, you do have all the financial resources. But there are adoption laws. It's difficult enough for a single woman to adopt a child, even more so for a single man."

        "But I'm not...single," the Scot argued. "We're living together."

        "Which is even worse," the ancient replied. "The state frowns on homosexual couples wanting to adopt children. In their eyes, this is not the type of family conducive to raising kids."

        "I don't care about mortal laws," Duncan muttered, already feeling very confused but still willing to fight for what he wanted.

        "Let's forget about mortal laws. What about our life as Immortals? We live in constant danger. Would you want to put a child in such a risky condition? I've known a lot of Immortals who have used the children as a means to take their parent's head. And what if you die? Who's going to take care of your kid when you're gone?"

        Going towards the younger man, Methos cupped his face in his hands. "Things are better this way, Duncan. Believe me!"

        "I don't know, Methos," the Highlander said truthfully, a resentful pout on his handsome face. "There's an aching void inside my heart."

        Desire approached the two men. Its long, graceful fingers caressed the ancient's face. The scentless smoke of its cigarette swirled around Methos. The Old Man breathed it in,  the fumes fuelling the hunger he felt for the young Immortal before him.

        &lt;Take him, Methos!&gt; Desire whispered in his ear. &lt;I know you want him.&gt;

        As if hearing Desire's murmured words, Methos kissed the Highlander on the lips.

        Smiling, he said, "Let me fill the void inside your heart!"

 

        Desire laughed as it danced around the bed, fanning the flames that engulfed the two men. But there was no love in their coupling.

        For Methos, there was only a primal desire for pleasure, fulfillment and release. His hands roamed every inch of the silken flesh beneath him, just as his hips rocked back and forth, his hardened member demanding entry into his lover's hot, tight channel.

        For Duncan, there was only pain of the body, mind and spirit. Though he wished to please his lover, he still hasn't fully gotten over the brutal taking of his innocence. Up to now, the faces of the men who had ravished him continued to taunt him. Then, there was a deeper anguish, a longing that was only aggravated by the painful, sensual dance they were performing.

        The Highlander's hands went down to his belly, his fingers fluttering over that firm, flat region below his navel. His mind was filled with images of what he could never have. Duncan imagined what it would be like if he and Methos were both mortal, if he were of another sex, possessing the parts necessary for procreation. A groan escaped his lips. The thought in itself was very erotic. Already, he could feel a tingle in his belly as if new life grew within. When Methos' eager lips found the sensitive tips of his nipples, Duncan wondered if this was how it felt to nurse an infant.

        Feeling a hard thrust, the young man's eyes flew open as he awakened from his fantasies with a pain-filled gasp. Tears trickled down the corners of his deep brown orbs as Methos' sterile seed filled his equally barren body. Spent, Duncan felt the older Immortal squeeze him gently before turning onto his back and falling into deep sleep.

        Pulling the blanket, the Scot found that most of it had been twisted around Methos' body. Only a bit of fabric could cover his hips. Instead, he fixed his lengthy tresses in a way that it covered his upper body like a shawl. Turning to the other side, he picked up his ever-faithful guardian, Teddy, from his appointed place on the night table. Pressing the bear close to his heart, he embraced Teddy tightly as he cried himself to sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

        "They're so beautiful!" said Duncan in awe, joy filling his heart at the sight of the twelve babies in the nursery behind the viewing glass.

        "Yes," smiled Mrs. Teresa Cortez beside him. The pretty Filipina was one of the adoption officers at the Seacouver Orphanage. Solemnly, she added, "Sometimes, I wonder why some people choose to abandon such precious life. It's just not right."

        Dream had accompanied Desire on this little trip. He loved the irritation in his sister's eyes as he moved from one perambulator to another, communing with the infants. The part of the toddler Daniel that was still within him enjoyed this silent discussion about the satisfaction of drinking milk from a mother's breast instead of a bottle.

        Mrs. Cortez looked at Duncan whose face was pressed close to the glass, a broad smile on his face.

        "Mr. MacLeod," she began, trying to remember the speech she was prepared to say, "we here at the orphanage are extremely grateful for the generous monthly donations you've given us. It has helped us tremendously..."

        Whatever else Teresa was going to say no longer came out as she gazed at the Highlander. She had never seen such happiness before in an adult, even among the parents who had successfully adopted children. It practically lit up the man's face, making his already handsome features more angelic, pure...

        "Smile for me," she heard Duncan whisper as he continued to stare avidly at the babies. "I want to hear your laughter."

        Unseen to her, Dream was only happy to oblige, relaying the Scot's earnest request to the infants lying in their bassinets.

        To Teresa's surprise, the babies began to laugh, the sweet cooing sounds their immature vocal chords were capable of. Their faces lit up with the most wonderful expression...

        &lt;Innocence!&gt; the word suddenly came to Teresa's mind for that was what she saw in the man at her side. &lt;Innocence at its purest state that even the infants recognized it at once.&gt;

        Desire was furious. "Dream, get out of there!" it exclaimed angrily. At the sound of its voice, the baby closest to Desire began to cry, letting out gut-wrenching wails.

        "Oh, dear!" Teresa declared. "Katie!"

        Joy was immediately replaced by concern when Duncan heard those cries. Before Teresa could call the nurse, the Scot hurried to the door of the nursery and, pulling it open, went inside. Following him, she saw him pick the infant up, cradling her in his arms. As Duncan cooed to her in a singsong manner, the baby fell silent, looking up at him in wonder. With a delightful gurgle, the child reached out and touched the Scot's chin.

        "You understand me, don't you, Katie?" asked the Highlander, rocking the child slowly. "You know what Angel's saying."

        "Mr. MacLeod?" Teresa asked, not knowing what else to say.

        There was such bright hope in Duncan's eyes that it nearly broke her heart. "I would like to adopt a child, Mrs. Cortez," the Highlander smiled at her. "May…may I please adopt Katie?"

 

"This game has got to stop, Despair!" Dream argued with his younger sister.

        "Just when it's getting interesting?" Despair asked in turn, a gruesome smile on her face. "I think not!"

        Two weeks had passed. Methos was hunched over the litter box, the kitten at his side.

        "I wish your master would clean up your 'you-know-what' before he leaves for God knows where," he told the kitten. "No chance of you cleaning up after you've done your business?"

        Kitty meowed in the negative.

        "I thought so," said the ancient smugly. 

        "Hello!" someone suddenly greeted him.

        Standing up, Methos was approached by a petite young woman with beautiful brown skin.

        "Good afternoon!" he greeted her, getting to his feet. "I'm Dr. Adam Pierson. What can I do for you, Miss..."

        "Mrs. Teresa Cortez," she introduced herself. "I'm looking for Mr. MacLeod. There are a few questions I forgot to ask him."

        "Well," Methos began, "please make yourself at home. He'll probably be here in a few minutes."

        As she sat down, the ancient asked, "Would you like something to drink? We have orange juice and beer."

        "Orange juice is just fine, thank you." Teresa looked at the Immortal curiously. "Are you a friend of Mr. MacLeod's, Dr. Pierson?"

        "Call me Adam, please! 'Friend'? Well, you could say that."

        "Are you roommates?"

        Pulling the top off the can, Methos handed it to Teresa. "How do I put this delicately? We're...uh...living together."

        The questioning stare remained on the woman's face.

        "We're lovers, Mrs. Cortez," Methos admitted outright. Wanting to change the subject, he queried, "You didn't tell me the company you work for."

Hearing this, Methos' jaw dropped, realizing what he had just done. At that moment, Duncan's buzz hit him and the Highlander himself emerged from the lift. Duncan was stunned at the sight of his lover with Teresa Cortez.

        "Mrs. Cortez!" he exclaimed, not hiding the surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here? I told you to give me a call on my cellphone if you're coming over."

        "I tried to call you but your phone must be off. I decided to drop by to ask you a few questions." Looking at Methos meaningfully, she said, "I already found the answers."

Slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder, Teresa stood up and headed for the lift.

        "Mrs. Cortez, please!" Duncan blocked her path. "Let me explain!"

        "Mr. MacLeod," Teresa halted his stream of words, "you don't have to explain anything to me. I'm not as conservative as you think."

        At that, Duncan breathed a sigh of relief.

        "But there are board members at the orphanage who aren't. I asked you what your sexual orientation was and you told me you were straight. You even told me you were living alone. This won't look good on my report."

        "You don't have to say anything," the Scot pleaded with her. "Listen, if the orphanage needs more money, I'll make a bigger donation."

        "It doesn't have anything to do with money, Mr. MacLeod," Teresa tried to explain to him. "We're talking about providing a healthy, normal family environment for a child."

"Why? Are you saying I'm not normal because I happen to be living with another man? I love Adam, Mrs. Cortez. It's only been seven months since I learned that I could love someone of my own gender and I feel no shame in that. The issue here is not what's normal. It's if I'm capable of taking care of Katie. I can do that. I have the financial means and, most importantly, I have an overwhelming amount of love that I could shower on a child. What else do you need?"

        "You don't have to convince me," the woman answered. "I've seen for myself how you are with Katie and the rest of the kids. But convincing the others? That's going to be a problem."

        Duncan took Teresa's hands. "Please try! I beg you!"

        Teresa looked at him firmly. "I will. But I'm telling you now. It's a lost cause. I don't want you to get your hopes up."

        Saying this, she pulled her hands out of the Highlander's grasp and, entering the lift, made her way down to the dojo.

Despair had walked towards the Scot. With a wicked grin, she stuck the sharp hook of her ring into Duncan's heart. The young Immortal gasped in pain, his hand touching his chest.

        Oblivious to his lover's pain, an angry Methos broke his silence. "What have you been doing, MacLeod? As much as I appreciate your discourse earlier on love and family, the fact that you went behind my back to try to adopt a child already contradicts what you just said. If you love me, you should have told me what you were planning to do."

Duncan didn't answer to his lover's angry words. Instead, he bent down and picked up the kitten mewling at his feet. Ignoring Methos, he went towards the bed. Taking Teddy in his arms as well, Duncan lay down, curled up on his side and stared at the brick wall.

        "Are you listening to me, Mac?" asked Methos again. "You haven't been listening to a word I said."

        "I told you I wanted a child," said Duncan, his voice choked with sorrow. "But all you did was tell me I couldn't have one."

        "I didn't exactly say that. I just wanted you think about what you're going to get yourself into."

        "You told me you had children, Methos," the Scot interrupted him. "You've known how it feels to have them embrace you and call you 'father.' You've watched them grow up."

        "Yes," Methos hissed painfully, "and I've also watched them grow old and die."

"But that's life. Sometime in our lives, we all die, even we Immortals. I have lived for 408 years and I still haven't experienced everything that life has to offer. Raising a child is one of them. Why would you deprive me of the experience?"

        "Because I don't want to see you hurt, Duncan," said Methos insistently. "I know how it feels."

        "Surely it's better than this, knowing that you cannot have what you truly want in all the world."

        Seeing that it was pointless to reason with the Scot, exasperated, the ancient grabbed his coat and stormed out of the loft. 

        Duncan pressed a hand to his heart where he had felt the sting of Despair's hook.

        As a tear fell down his cheek, he whispered, "Why aren't you listening to me, Methos? Why is it so difficult for you to understand how I feel?"

 

Dream watched helplessly as the Highlander fell further and further into Despair's realm. He saw how Duncan constantly called the orphanage, asking Teresa Cortez for any news. But, in the long run, even Teresa refused to take his calls.

        Methos tried his best to be understanding. However, Dream knew the ancient couldn't comprehend the nature of the Scot's pain, that this wasn't just Angel's tantrums about not getting what he wanted. It was a strong biological and spiritual yearning that needed to be satisfied.

        On Thanksgiving night, Methos decided to throw a small party at the dojo, hoping to cheer up his lover and make him forget the cherubic smiles and bubbling laughter of babies and children.

        It was one of the few times that Dream appeared in the flesh, so to speak. He was thankful that Methos was a good friend of his dear confidante, Hob Gadling. Through Gadling, he was able to secure for himself an invite to the party.

Duncan managed the pretense of being a gracious host, engaging in light conversation, laughing at a few jokes. But his eyes could not hide the sorrow and pain in his heart. Many times, Dream caught him gazing longingly at Dr. Anne Lindsey and her four-year old daughter, Mary.

        When he managed to get close to the Scot, Dream handed a plastic cup to him. The Highlander looked up in surprise.

        "Punch, Mr. MacLeod," the Lord of the Dreaming offered with a gentle smile. "I took the liberty of adding something stronger. I thought you might need it."

        A weary little smile formed on the corners of Duncan's lips. "Thank you."

        "Lovely child, isn't she?" he commented, glancing at Mary who sitting on Joe Dawson's lap, giggling as she pulled at the grizzled veteran's beard.

        "Yes," answered Duncan. "Anne named her after my mother."

        "Duncan," Dream began discreetly. "I am aware of the problem you're having. All I can say is don't lose hope. Things have a way of turning out for the best."

        The Highlander gazed up at him hopefully. "Do you think so?"

        Nodding his head, the Dream King stated firmly, "I know so."

        So it was to his trepidation when he suddenly saw his youngest sister Delirium waving to him from the doorway.

        "Excuse me," he told the Scot. Going towards her, he demanded, "Sister, what are you doing here?"

        "Despair told me it's going to be my turn now," Delirium replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

        Just as she said these words, the phone rang in the office and Duncan went to answer it. With everyone preoccupied at the party, no one saw the changes in the Highlander's facial expression as he talked to the person on the other end. Dream saw it all - shock, confusion, denial and overwhelming grief. He watched as the Scot slowly put down the phone. Duncan was trembling all over as he walked outside the office.

        It was only then that Methos noticed his lover, who was leaning on the doorframe. Putting his cup down, he went to Duncan's side. "Mac, what's wrong? Who was that on the phone?"

        The Highlander's voice was choked with emotion as he spoke. "It's Teresa Cortez. She told me that the screening board rejected my application. They said that I wasn't a suitable parent for Katie." As he said this, rivulets of tears began streaming from his anguished brown eyes.

        "Oh, Duncan! I'm so sorry!" Before the ancient could wrap his arms around the Scot and comfort him, Duncan ran sobbing into the lift. Shutting the gates with a loud bang, he made his way up to the loft.

        Using the soft whisper of a gentle breeze to transport them, Dream and Delirium followed him.

        Upstairs, the two siblings found the Highlander on his hands and knees, searching frantically for his kitten.

        "Here, Kitty, Kitty!" Duncan called out as he peered under the couch. His face was wet with his tears that won't stop flowing. "Papa's got milk for you!" Looking at Teddy sitting on the table, he asked, "Where's Kitty, Teddy? Did you scare her away?"

        "Poor Duncan?" Delirium clucked sadly. "It's not a kitty he needs now, does he?"

        "Del, don't do it!" Dream warned her, but it was too late.

        Delirium willed the kitten to come out of its hiding place under the bed. As it padded into the open, the youngest of the Endless transformed it into something else. As it emerged from the corner of the bed, it was no longer a kitten Duncan saw.

        "God!" the Scot breathed in surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth, stifling the joyous cry welling up in his throat.

        In the dojo, Methos had just finished seeing all their guests off. He quickly took the lift to the Fifth Floor to check on his distraught lover. But when he opened the gates, the sight that greeted him stunned the ancient.

        "Oh, Methos!" cried Duncan happily to the older man. "God answered my prayers! He's given me a beautiful baby boy!"

        The Highlander ran his fingers through the golden locks of the toddler he held in his arms. The child nuzzled on his chest. Finding a tiny nipple, he began sucking greedily on it.

        "Naughty boy!" Duncan giggled in pleasant surprise. Letting his shirt fall off his left shoulder, he said, "Look, Methos! He's feeding on me!"

        Dream shook his head, knowing full well that the ancient Immortal was seeing nothing, that what the Scot held in his arms was just air. Already, Methos was looking at Duncan as if he were ready to commit his lover to Seacouver Asylum.

        "Oh, Delirium!" he declared forlorn. "What have you done?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

        A month had passed. Dream couldn't help but feel sorry for the ancient Immortal who gazed sulkily at his young lover, the birthday gift he had given Duncan sitting neglected on the table beside him. The Scot was totally oblivious to the older man's ill temper. All his attention was focused on the child lying on his lap.

        Methos was never an altruist, especially when faced with situations he could not comprehend and had no control over. Didn't the Old Man essentially abandon the Highlander after Duncan unwittingly murdered his student? It was nothing short of a miracle that, following the tragic shooting in front of Markum's grocery store nine months back, Methos decided to care for the wounded, childlike Angel the Scot had become. Of course, the Lord of the Dreaming was very aware that the ancient's intentions were not entirely chaste, for lack of a better term, at that time. Still lust and, eventually, love proved to be good reasons to stay.

        But now, as Methos watched his lover as he rocked in the rocking chair, playing, cuddling and singing (for once, surprisingly, in tune!) to open air, the ancient was in serious contemplation of hieing off to Bora Bora where, barring an occasional hurricane or two, was very nice everyday of the year. Although he has been, for centuries, a loner, Methos didn't like the feeling of being neglected.

        As Methos gazed lustfully at the rose pink bud of Duncan's bared chest, he mused wryly, &lt;Damn it! Casper is getting more quality time than I am!&gt;

        Naturally, the Scot didn't get the joke. After all, he was the only one who could see Delirium's shade. Still, the Highlander was fuming mad.

        "Casper? His name's Ian," Duncan had said indignantly, "after my father! What made you think of such a hideous name like that for our son? Do you have a fifth Horseman hiding around somewhere?"

        Then, a troubling thought crossed the ancient's mind. Even Dream was disturbed by it and he wondered if one of his siblings hadn't put it into his head.

        What was whirling in Methos' head was Duncan's description of his ghost child - pale complexion, golden curly locks. Somehow, it reminded him of someone, an Immortal who had deceived his trusting, childlike lover into giving up his precious innocence to him, a man named Aric.

        &lt;That's not my son!&gt; the thought screamed inside his mind. &lt;That's not my son!&gt;

        Duncan didn't notice that his lover was seething with pent up fury. Standing up, he pulled the lapel of his shirt close and carried the toddler to their bed. Methos' piercing gaze followed him.

        As he laid the child gently on the bed, Duncan said, "You're so handsome, Ian! You're a sweet little boy! Isn't he, Methos?" Noting the ancient's silence, he asked again, "Methos?" Gazing up, he saw the older man staring at him intensely. "Is something wrong, Adam?"

        Methos slowly walked towards the young Immortal until he was towering above the Highlander.

        "Methos?" Duncan asked worriedly. "What is it?"

        Without warning, the ancient gripped the Scot's upper arms tightly and yanked him to his feet. Before Duncan knew what was happening, Methos pressed desperate, hungry lips over his own lush ones.

        "Methos, don't!" he gasped. "Not in front of the baby!"

        "There is no baby, MacLeod!" Methos growled menacingly as he tore Duncan's shirt open.

        "Methos, please!" There was growing alarm in Duncan's voice as the ancient's hands sought out the swollen nipples of his chest. As Methos twisted and pulled on the tiny nubs, the Scot cried, "You're hurting me! Stop!"

        "What's going on?" Dream almost jumped, hearing a whiny voice suddenly ask him. Whirling around, he saw Delirium beside him, eyeing the two Immortals before her with absolute disgust. "PHEEEYEWWWWW! Duncan and Methos K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Yuccch!"

        "Put a stop to this, sister," Dream ordered sternly. "This has gone too far! Get rid of the wraith now!"

        Methos was inching his cringing lover towards the bed. As Duncan fell backward, he heard the ghost child give out a surprised wail as his back pressed on the tiny legs. Sitting up abruptly, he shoved Methos off him. The ancient tumbled to the floor.

        "What the hell do you think you're doing?" the Highlander yelled at his lover. "I almost crushed Ian!"

        "And I said there is no baby!" Methos shouted in turn as he got to his feet. "You're suffering from a delusion, MacLeod! Because the Seacouver Orphanage rejected your application."

        "Which was all your fault. Why did you have to tell Teresa Cortez what we are?"

        "Because it's the truth! We're lovers but you seem to be ashamed of that fact!"

        "Me? Ashamed? All I want is to have a son! Of all people, I was hoping you would understand that!"

        "That's the problem! Everything in this relationship has been about you and what you want. But what about my needs?"

        Duncan stared at him aghast. "Are you saying I'm selfish? Your needs? Don't you bed me every time the fancy strikes you?"

        "Don't tell me you didn't like it, MacLeod!" Methos retorted. "With your moaning and groaning, you sure had me fooled. Didn't I often have you screaming?"

        "Because I was in pain! Your brain has sunk so low in your dick you had no idea you were hurting me!"

        Hearing the child's sobs, Duncan embraced it. "Don't cry, Ian! I'm not mad at you!"

        "I don't like Methos!" Delirium commented with a pout. "I'm gonna..."

        Before Dream could stop her, a stern voice declared, "You will do nothing, sister."

        Sitting on the windowsill was the lithe form of their eldest sister, Death. Clad in her favorite black sleeveless tee and matching dark jeans and boots, her kohl-painted eyes glared at Delirium.

        "I agree with Dream, Del," said Death firmly. "This has gone far enough! Call off your familiar!"

        "But Duncan looks so sad," Delirium argued with her sister like the petulant girl she was. "Can't I even leave him with just a kitty?"

        Death shook her head. "No! You will do no such thing!"

        Grudgingly, Delirium motioned to the ghost child on the bed.

        Duncan felt the toddler pull himself out of his embrace. As the Scot looked on in bewilderment, he saw Ian climb down from the bed and started to walk away, going towards his mistress.

        "Ian?" Duncan asked in confusion. "Where are you going?"

        Pausing beside Delirium, the wraith looked up questioningly at the three siblings of the Endless and then glanced back sorrowfully at the Highlander.

        "Say goodbye, little one," Death said gently. "He'll be all right. Your work is done."

        The Scot's eyes widened in shock when the baby turned to face him. With a sad little voice, the child said, "Bye, bye, Papa!"

        "Nooo!" Duncan screamed as he made to clamber off the bed. But Methos wrapped his arms tightly around his distraught lover. "Ian, don't go! Don't leave me!"

        Glancing back at the man holding him, the Scot pleaded, "Let me go, Methos! Please stop him! Our son's going away!"

        "Let him go, Duncan!" Methos said softly, kissing the back of his lover's head consolingly. "Whatever it is you've been seeing, it doesn't belong here with us!"

        "That's our son, Methos!" Duncan argued with him. "How could you say that? Please! If there's any compassion left in you, don't let him go!"

        But the ancient held on tight to him. Helpless, all the Highlander could do was watch and weep as Ian, with an unseen Delirium, walked into the multicolored doorway leading to Del's realm and out of his life forever.

        Methos felt Duncan slump forward in his arms, his body shaking with sobs. Kissing the top of his head, he whispered, "Hush now, Angel! It's over now! Things are going to be all right!"

        In anger and despair, Duncan wrenched himself out of Methos' grasp. "All right? You call this 'all right'? I have nothing, Methos! NOTHING! All I wanted was a child! I already lost my chance at Katie because of you. Now this! Why are you doing this to me, Methos? Haven't I pleasured you enough? Why do you have to deprive me of this small thing?"

        "There is no child, Duncan! Ian was just a hallucination, a product of your depressed mind!"

        "Are you saying I'm crazy now? Is that it? He maybe a hallucination to you but Ian was real to me. Now, I don't even have an illusion, as you always insist on calling him."

        Duncan rubbed his hands over his flat belly. "Why did I have to be Immortal? Why can't I have children? It hurts so much knowing that you can't have the one thing you desire the most."

        A cold vise gripped Methos' heart as the rage he tried so hard to hold erupted like a volcano. The cruel words just spewed out of his mouth without his realizing it.

        "Even if you were mortal, or even if you were a woman," Methos muttered under gritted teeth, "Ian couldn't be my son. He is NOT my son!"

        The Highlander's eyes widened in shock, knowing instantly what his lover meant. As Duncan shook his head in horror, Methos' jaw dropped, surprised by what he had just uttered.

        "You blame me," Duncan whispered in anguish. "You still blame me for what happened."

        "Duncan, I didn't mean to say that," stammered Methos.

        "WE'RE THROUGH!" the Highlander shouted, pointing towards the lift. "Get out! Get the hell out!"

        Totally at a loss, leaving was the only thing the older man could do. Taking his coat, he strode into the lift and lowered the gates with a loud crash.

        As Methos pressed the Down button, he gazed at his angry lover through tearful eyes.

        "I'm sorry, Duncan!" he said as tears fell from his eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

        When the ancient was gone, the Scot ran towards the bed. Taking Teddy, he lay down on the soft mattress, curled up in a tight ball and wept bitterly.

        Death clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "This is bad, Dream. This is really bad. Do you think you could redeem him, little brother? He is completely trapped in Despair's realm now."

        "I'll try," Dream replied, "but I'm going to need your help on this, sister."

        "What do you want me to do?"

        "I want you to find someone on the other side for me." He then whispered a name in Death's ear. "I'll meet you at the door to the afterlife."

        "And what will you be doing?"

        "I need to consult an expert on this matter," answered Dream. "It won't take long. I just want to be sure I won't be making a mistake."

        Though she wanted to ask her brother what he was planning to do, Death nodded her head, choosing to go along with him. Opening a door to her realm, she set out to perform the task Dream asked her to do.

        When his sister was gone, Dream slowly went towards the weeping figure on the bed. He ran his fingers soothingly over Duncan's brow. Sprinkling a pinch of dream sand into those gentle doe eyes, he whispered, "Sleep, Highlander. When I return tonight, you must be prepared for the important task at hand."

        As if hearing the Dream King, Duncan let out a sigh and settled down to sleep.

        Seeing the Scot in deep slumber, Dream returned to his realm.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**  
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_Seacouver_ _, _ _Canada_ _, 3048._

 

_Dr. William Dawson didn’t know he was in the middle of a waking dream. Even in dreams, the good doctor was proud of his work. Leading his pale-faced companion through the immense laboratory complex, he showed him the progress he has made in his research on fertility and answered all his questions. The nuclear holocaust that decimated two thirds of the world’s population had left the other one third unable to bear offspring. _

_       “But we’re making progress,” said _ _Dawson_ _ in glee. “Yes, indeedy!” He then opened the two doors to the birthing room. _

_       Dream’s eyes roamed all over the chamber, looking at the complex medical machinery and the gleaming bottles of intravenous fluids suspended on hooks on the walls. _ _Dawson_ _’s patients were all asleep. In outward appearances, they do not appear to be pregnant. The doctor knew, however, that new life had sprung in these bodies, previously incapable, anatomically, of bearing offspring. _

_       “How is the young lord?” asked Dream. _

_Dawson_ _ shook his head. “Like always. Sad, always weeping.” The doctor gritted his teeth. “The master never ceases to torment him. Thank God he has passed the age of fertility. If the master had taken him when he was between 400 to 2,500 years old, lord knows what kind of offspring he might have borne. If it wasn’t for him, this research would not be possible.” _

_       “Where can I find him?” _

_       “Probably in the Crystal Chamber. That’s where he always stays. Let me take you there.” _

_Dawson_ _ then led the Dream King through a series of hallways and narrow passages. Soon, they arrived at a large room with metal doors. The doors were etched with very sinister designs. _

_       Ignoring the ominous symbols, with a wave of his hand, Dream opened the doors and went inside, the doctor following him. _

_       The room was a giant atrium. The glass windows of the roof revealed an iridescent sky still polluted with radiation. Etched on the floor was a strange design of fifteen blazing suns connected by thunderbolts. Each sun, except the five in the center, contained a giant crystal. Inside the crystals were humans in suspended animation, each bearing collars with flashing lights around their necks. _

_       Dream stepped forward and surveyed the sleeping beings. The four crystals in the outer circle obviously represented the points of the compass. The South crystal held a thin black man. The East crystal had a pretty brown-skinned young woman with short, black hair. The North crystal held a highlander with short blond hair, clad in traditional Scottish wear. _

_       The crystals in the inner circle contained six men. Though they were dressed differently, they all looked like the young man who was kneeling and weeping before the robed, dark-haired figure enclosed in the West crystal. _

_       Feeling Dream’s presence, the man turned to gaze at the Lord of the Dreaming through tearful brown, doeeyes. _

_       “I know you, don’t I?” he asked him softly. _

_       “We’ve met a long time ago, my lord,” Dream bowed to him. _

_       The young man laughed. “It is I who should bow to you, Dream King. You are one of the Endless.” _

_       “But you are a god yourself.” _

_       There was bitterness in his voice. “What kind of god am I that I couldn’t protect my people...” His hand caressed the crystal before him, “...and the ones I love?” _

_       “You did the best you can.” _

_       “But it wasn’t enough.” Looking straight into Dream’s fathomless eyes, he queried, “Could all this have been averted if I had...” His hands embraced the fragile teddy bear in his arms. _

_       “Maybe, maybe not,” said Dream truthfully. “I am not privy to the secrets that are written in my brother’s book. But the first time we met, you were fertile then. Your lover, however, was not.” _

_Dawson_ _ interrupted. “At that great age, there are only a few viable seed left.” _

_       The godling shook his head. Gazing at the Dream King, he asked, “One last question, my lord. The Twins? Are they safe?” _

_       Dream smiled at him assuringly. “They are well. You need not fear for them.” _

_       “I’m glad,” he said in relief. _

_       “But they won’t hide from me forever,” a voice suddenly declared from the doorway. _

_       Turning, they saw the hideous form of a demon. The ghastly creature had an ape-like face, with piercing red eyes and menacing fangs in its gaping maw. Its huge bat wings were folded behind its back. In its right hand, it carried a spear. _

_       “You have no dominion here, Dream King!” the demon said gruffly as he strode towards them. _

_       “This place is also a part of my realm, on account of the ten dreamers you hold prisoner in this chamber,” answered Dream coldly. “As long as there are beings here who dare to hope and dream, I can come and go wherever and whenever I please.” _

_       “Well, I’m afraid you have overstayed your welcome. I suggest you leave.” As he said this, a scaly hand reached out and grabbed the young man. Taking the struggling form into his embrace, the demon chuckled, “Besides, my bed needs to be warmed.” The man grimaced in disgust as a forked tongue licked his neck. _

_       The demon suddenly gagged. Looking up in surprise, _ _Dawson_ _ and the godling saw that Dream held the demon’s tongue in his hand. He jerked hard on the tongue before releasing it. _

_       “If I did not have another business here,” Dream began threateningly, “I would not tolerate your disrespect to this young god, Ahriman.” _

_       “But you do not have your helm, do you? I shall do whatever I like with this beautiful prince and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. As for the Twins, when I find them...well....” The demon burst into laughter. “I’ve already tasted what the younger twin has to offer. The more, the merrier, I always say.” Yanking the young man’s arm, he ordered, “Come, _ _Duncan_ _! Our bed awaits us!” _

_       The Lord of the Dreaming could only watch helplessly as Ahriman the demon dragged away the poor godling who was once known as Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. _

_       Dawson got down on his knees, wringing Dream’s robe in his hands. “My lord, please! If it is in your power to do something about this, please help him! I dishonor my ancestor, the Watcher Joe Dawson, who made us, his descendants, swear that we will look after the well being of the Immortal Duncan MacLeod. Ido not want to see him suffer so!” _

_       “With the knowledge you have given me,” Dream said, squeezing the doctor’s shoulder assuringly, “I shall try.” _

 

       “I never thought you’d get here!” Death said with a pout, arms crossed over her chest. “You certainly took your bloody time!”

       “I made a brief visit to the future,” was Dream’s patient reply. “Though it was most enlightening, it was very painful to see.”

       Death grimaced. “So the future’s not so bright after all.”

       The Dream King nodded his head. “You don’t even have to wear shades, sister,” he said solemnly.

       Hearing this, Death couldn’t help but grin. “I like that! Really peachy keen answer! I never expected that of you, little brother.”

       Dream smiled wanly. “I wish I were joking.”

       “Of course you know that there are worlds parallel to this, worlds whose futures differ from the others. Who are we to say that the future you saw may not happen in this world.”

       “But we can’t say that for sure, can we? We are nearing the end of another millennium, time for another great change.”

       “Yes, I know,” said Death in agreement. “Are you hoping you could change all that?”

       “I don’t know. We’ll see.” Dream changed the subject. “Well, did you find her?”

       Opening the small nondescript door behind her, his sister declared, “Voila!”

       There was a sound of fluttering wings followed by a bright flash of white light. When the light dimmed, a beautiful swan stood a short distance away. As it approached them, the swan began to change into a graceful woman with blonde hair.

       Curtseying to the Dream King, she said, “You wish to speak to me, my lord?”

       The strength and courage in her soul awed Dream. The two siblings glanced briefly at each other. “I have a very important boon to ask of you.”

       They talked for a few minutes. To Dream’s relief, the woman beamed gloriously.

       “For Duncan,” she replied, “I will do anything. And I also know a lot of souls here who would gladly help you as well.”

       At these words, more figures appeared behind her, all willing to assist in any way they can.

       “Take what you need from us, my lord,” the woman urged him. “Please tell Mac that this is our birthday gift to him and that we will always love him.”

       Taking the woman’s hand, Dream kissed it. “Thank you, Tessa. As for your message, I think I have a betterway in which you could deliver it to him.”

 

       “Duncan! Duncan, wake up!”

       The Highlander frowned at the sound of that unfamiliar voice. He could feel the warmth of the setting sun’s rays upon his face. Then, a soft cloth rubbed on his cheek. Peering up through swollen eyes, he found himself staring at shiny black button eyes. That pugnacious grin he had come to love was replaced by a warm smile.

       “Hello, Highlander!” Teddy greeted him.

       Duncan sat bolt upright from the bed, quickly inching backwards towards the headboard. His eyes looked warily at the patchwork teddy bear that was now moving and talking.

       Rubbing his eyes with his hands, the Scot mumbled, “Methos is right! I really am going insane!”

       Teddy put his paws on his side. “Harrumphh!” he declared. “For a 5,000 year old, your lover knows diddley-squat!”

       Cautiously, Duncan picked up the bear. “Am I dreaming this?”

       “In a way. My master chose to open the doorway between the waking world and the Dreaming just for this night.” Teddy hugged the Highlander tightly. “I’m your guardian, Duncan MacLeod, as I was Joe Dawson’s. I’ve always wanted to hold you like this. I am glad my master gave me this opportunity to talk to you at last. He knows how much you’ve suffered and he wants you to receive a small measure of happiness tonight.”

       Duncan embraced Teddy. “I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.”

       “Didn’t I tell you never to lose hope?” Dream interrupted them.

       Turning, the Scot saw the Lord of the Dreaming standing at the foot of the bed.

       “I know you, don’t I?” he queried. “You were at the party last Thanksgiving.”

       Dream nodded his head. “Yes. And today is the winter solstice – your birthday. I have a gift for you, Duncan.”

       Duncan said shyly, “You don’t have to give me anything.”

       “This is no ordinary gift, Highlander.” Dream looked at him solemnly. “I will admit, to accept this gift will lead you to suffer such great pain like you had never experienced before. But the reward will be worth the agony that you will endure.”

       “I don’t understand.”

       “There is nothing you need to understand. This is totally beyond the four centuries of knowledge you have accumulated so far. The only things needed are your courage, your strength and faith that this could be done.”

       “And that you should trust us,” Teddy interrupted.

       Dream continued, “Your body has reached the point that you could accept this gift. All I ask now is if you will take what I offer you? I will not lie to you that someone very close to you helped me in its creation.”

       The Scot thought for a moment. “Since I believe this is just a dream, I see no harm in taking what you offer me. Very well, my lord. I accept your gift, with my warmest thanks.”

       Hearing this, Dream nodded his head in approval. “First, I must prepare you so you could receive this gift.”

       Gesturing with his hand, the Lord of the Dreaming conjured up a wind that blew all around the Highlander.It was so strong that it freed Duncan’s long hair from its silver tie. Looking down at himself, the Scot saw that his clothing was slowly unraveling, turning into threads of the finest white silk. Carried by the wind, the threads swirled around him, weaving together to form a new garment. When the wind died down, Duncan found himself wearing a loose white robe. The fabric was so thin that the Scot’s bare form was tantalizingly silhouetted in the lamplight.

       “Now lie down,” Dream instructed him. “We come to one of the difficult stages. There is a taint in your body that needs to be cleansed. It will hurt. Just have courage.”

       As Duncan lay back on the bed, Teddy sat down beside him, caressing his face with the velvet pad of his right paw. “I won’t leave you,” the bear assured him. “If you feel afraid, just hold me.”

       Duncan pressed his lips to Teddy’s nose. “Thank you, Teddy.” Breathing in deeply to quell his nervousness, he gazed up at the ceiling and braced himself. “I’m ready!”

       Dream pulled out the pouch of sand from within the folds of his robe. Taking out a handful of the sparkling golden grains, he blew them in the direction of the figure lying on the bed.

       The Scot closed his eyes as sand surrounded him. It felt like he was in the middle of a fierce sandstorm. Duncan whimpered in pain, feeling the sand seep through his robe, seeking out the filth that had corrupted his body. The dream sand rubbed his skin raw. His nipples and cock hardened as the sand scoured the sensitive flesh.

       Then, the hem of his robe was hunched up to his waist and an invisible force opened his legs wide apart. Before the Highlander knew what was happening, the sand entered him.

       “Oh sweet Jesus!” he cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling the painful, abrasive penetration. “Teddy!”

       The bear wrapped his short arms around Duncan’s neck, pressing his soft cheek to the Highlander’s face. “Don’t be afraid! I’m here! I won’t leave you!”

       “Teddy, it hurts!” Duncan sobbed at the never-ending invasion, his arms embracing his loyal bear. “God, it hurts!”

       The Scot felt Teddy’s tears mix with his. “If I could take the pain away for you, I’d do it willingly. But you must bear it.”

       Suddenly, Duncan screamed in agony as the sand began churning inside his belly, scouring away the tainted seed of the two Immortals who had raped him. His hands tightened around Teddy as he cried out in pain. The bear never let go of the Highlander, whispering comforting words in his ear. It seemed like the purging went on forever that, soon, Duncan’s cries became hoarse whimpers.

       Then, the pain gradually eased as the dream sand withdrew from his body. Looking down, Duncan saw the grains fly out from between his legs and enter a glass jar Dream held in his hands. The sand inside the jar began to take shape, forming tiny human-like figures. Duncan’s eyes widened in horror, seeing that they resembled Aric and Cyrus.

       “You’re ours, Duncan MacLeod!” Aric shouted. “You’ll always be ours!”

       Cyrus stuck his tongue out obscenely at the frightened Scot. “Want another kiss, Duncan?”

       “Enough of that!” Dream declared sternly, shutting the lid of the jar so their voices could no longer be heard. “You have caused enough damage.”

       Summoning a little nightmare called the Borghal Rantipole, Dream handed the jar to him. “Take this to Lucien. Please tell him to put this in my chest in the Heart of the Dreaming.”

       The Borghal Rantipole gave a polite bow and vanished with the jar.

       “They won’t be bothering you ever again.” Gazing at the Highlander, Dream asked, “How are you feeling?”

       Duncan paused, feeling himself. Surprised, he said, “I don’t know. I feel...cleaner.”

       The Lord of the Dreaming nodded his head. “As I knew you would. You have done well, Duncan. You are truly worthy of this gift.”

       From within his robes, Dream pulled out a beautiful star-like crystal. The gem floated in his right hand, pink and blue lights twinkling in time with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Then, to the Scot’s surprise, the crystal spoke...and it was the voice of someone he had known years before, and loved with all his heart.

       “Duncan?” the gem said with a tinge of disbelief in its voice. “Is it really you?”

       Even the Highlander couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Tessa?”

       The crystal winked a playful pink light. “Oh, Duncan! It is you! I missed you so much!”

       “I missed you too, Tess.”

        “I’ve seen the things you’ve gone through. I wanted so much to hold you in my arms like I used to.” The gem then said, “That’s why I’m here now. I came to tell you that no matter how difficult life becomes for you, always remember that a lot of people love you, even here in the afterlife. I’ve met them all. Richie...he’s also with me. He told me to tell you he’s not angry with you for what happened. Ahriman tricked you. His death wasn’t your fault.”

       “Tess, have you come to take me with you at last?” asked Duncan imploringly. “Is this the gift? I am so tired. I want to be with you and Richie.”

       “No,” the crystal replied sadly. “It’s not yet your time. You still have a long life ahead of you. Our gift to you will give you the strength to live. We have put parts of ourselves into this gift, all of us who love and care for you very much. Me, Richie, Darius, Fitzcairn, Sean Burns, Charlie De Salvo, Linda Plager, Little Deer, just to name a few. However, there is still one vital part missing, from someone who is the other half of your soul.”

       The Scot gazed at the twinkling gem. “You’re talking about Methos, aren’t you?”

       “Yes. With Methos’ help, this gift will be complete. But for now, accept this simple offering. Always remember we love you, Duncan.”

       Then, the gem floated towards him, going between his legs. A gasp escaped Duncan’s lips as the crystal entered him. There was no pain at all, just comforting warmth that filled his entire being. Feeling a sensation of fullness in his belly, his hand gingerly touched the flat surface, marveling at the heat radiating from the crystal inside him.

       Not knowing what to say, the Highlander gazed questioningly at the Dream King.

       Dream grinned. “You heard what Tessa said. We need Methos.”

 

       In his flat near the bay, Methos tossed and turned in his sleep. His mind was tormented by images of a beautiful young Highlander with gentle doe eyes, looking at him wistfully. A man with snow-white hair and equally pale skin stood beside him. In his arms, Duncan cradled his ever-faithful companion, Teddy. A frown creased his brow, seeing that the bear was moving.

       “Wakey, wakey, Methos!” the bear suddenly ordered him.

       The ancient woke up with a start, realizing that he wasn’t dreaming at all.

       Dream bowed to him. “Greetings, Old One!”

       “Who are you?” Methos stammered. “How did you get in here? God, I must be having a nightmare!”

       “This is not a dream, Methos,” Duncan replied. “At least, that’s what they told me. I wish I could explain it to you. But this is real. Believe me!” Gesturing to his companions, he introduced, “This is the Lord of the Dreaming.” With a small laugh, he raised the bear to him. “Of course, you already know Teddy.”

       “Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, sir,” said Teddy graciously, offering the ancient a paw.

       Poleaxed, Methos found himself shaking the offered paw. &lt;I think I am going crazy! I’m talking and shaking hands with a stuffed toy!&gt;

       Reading his mind, Dream giggled, his laughter sounding like the tinkling of small bells. “No, you’re notgoing crazy.”

       Getting a closer look at the Dream King, Methos exclaimed, “We’ve met before. Hob Gadling introduced us back in 1689 at the tavern of the White Horse in England. But you looked different then.”

       “That was Morpheus, my predecessor. The recent times called for a change. My name is simply ‘Dream’.”

       Quickly getting to his feet, the ancient knelt down before the Lord of the Dreaming. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

       Dream answered cryptically, “Ask not what you can do for me but what you can do for your lover.”

       “I...I don’t understand.”

       Duncan stepped towards the bed, placing his hands on his lover’s shoulders. “Methos?” he began hesitantly. “I know I hurt your feelings earlier and I’m so sorry I drove you away. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me, to love me still?”

       Methos laid his hands on the Scot’s lean waist. “It is I who should ask for your forgiveness. I’ve been so selfish not to think about how much you wanted a child. Whatever it is you want me to do for you, just say it. I will do what you ask willingly.” He then kissed the Highlander on the lips.

       “I want you to make us one,” Duncan whispered. Shrugging off his robe, he let it fall in a pool around his ankles. “Please, Methos? Make love to me.”

       “But...” the ancient glanced at Dream and Teddy.

       “My presence is needed here, Old One,” Dream answered his unspoken question. “Make love to the Highlander. I will see to it that your union will be complete.”

 

       In the distant past, Methos had been made to perform sex with a variety of partners in front of an audience. But never before a deity as powerful as the Lord of the Dreaming. Somehow, knowing that Dream and Teddy were watching only fuelled the desire he felt for the young man beneath him. The formerly prudish Scot didn’t seem to mind Dream hovering around the bed. He was totally oblivious to his surroundings, except his lover and the torrent of passion engulfing him.

       Methos had never seen the Highlander like this before. It seemed every part of his being was sensitized greatly. Every kiss, every touch elicited a sweet whimper or a groan of pleasure.

       Eagerly, the elder Immortal savored the silky flesh of the Scot, his tongue licking away the beads of sweat. Duncan responded to him in earnest, pulling his experienced lover closer to his body, begging for more.

       Methos glanced down at the tiny buds on the Scot’s chest. Duncan’s nipples had assumed a darker, rosier hue. The areolae appeared swollen. The nubs as hard as pebbles. Touching the tip caused Duncan to gasp and arch his body upward. To give his lover full access to the gems of his chest, Duncan raised his arms and grasped the pillow under his head. With the tiny nubs exposed to him, Methos rolled the hard, sensitive points between his fingers.

       “Hmmm,” the Highlander mumbled in bliss, feeling an urgent stirring in his member.

       Pearlescent drops formed on the tips of Duncan’s nipples when the ancient squeezed them gently. Thinking it was the sweet areolar fluid his young lover often exuded during their lovemaking, Methos bent down to lick them away, only to discover that it was milk. It was not like any he had tasted in his entire life.

       Pulling the young Immortal up to a sitting position, Methos captured a swollen tit in his mouth and sucked out the wonderful nectar. With a moan, Duncan cradled the ancient in his arms like a babe.

       The voice of Dream interrupted this pleasurable feeding. “Don’t get too greedy, Old One,” the Dream King chided him. “We have need of the Highlander’s nourishing fluids later on.”

       When Methos reluctantly let go of a nipple, Duncan tried to pull his head back. “No! Methos, please don’t stop!”

       But when the older man positioned him on his knees, a small smile formed on the Scot’s lips. To give his lover access to his nether parts, Duncan braced himself on the headboard, parting his legs wide, giving Methos an alluring view of his rounded buttocks.

       Gathering the semen that had formed on the tip of the Highlander’s member, Methos coated his finger with it.

       “Ooh!” Duncan moaned in delight as a slender finger entered him. “More Methos! More, I beg you!”

       The first finger was followed by a second and a third as Methos tried to stretch the constricted channel. To the ancient, for some reason, it felt like he was preparing a virgin, which he knew Duncan was not. Even with three fingers inside, he was still very tight.

       Thinking he had prepared Duncan enough for him, he squeezed the Scot’s member, letting more of the seminal fluid dribble onto his hand. Coating his own organ with the slimy liquid, he then positioned the large head on the tiny, puckered opening and pushed inside.

       Duncan cried out as he was invaded. Though there was pain at initial entry, the Highlander’s mind was being distracted by the pleasurable fondling of his nipples. When Methos’ head pressed on his pleasure point, Duncan screamed in ecstasy, pushing his ass upwards, muscles clenching hard to capture as much of his lover’s length he could possibly can. Inch by inch, Methos pushed into the hot, moist channel until he was deeply seated inside Duncan’s body.

       When the two men began to move in unison, so did Dream work his magic. Finding a viable seed within the ancient, he placed a protective shield around it and guided it out of Methos’ body and into the Highlander. He delivered the seed to the crystal waiting inside Duncan’s belly.

       The Scot felt something was happening inside him but Methos’ urgent thrusts and squeezing of his hard shaft distracted him.

       Methos ran his palm over the Highlander’s flat belly, surprised at the heat radiating within. When he pushed into the younger man one last time, Methos felt electricity jolt his palm as his seed merged with the crystal. The climax reached, the two men screamed. It was truly the most intense coupling they had ever experienced. In their hearts, they knew that their union was indeed complete.

       The lovers collapsed on the bed, panting for breath. Slowly, Methos withdrew from the young Immortal and lay down beside him.

       Duncan turned to his side, running long, graceful fingers over his lover’s tousled dark locks, and kissed him.

       “Thank you, Methos,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

       “I love you,” Methos mumbled back.

       Letting a few grains of sand fall into the Old Man’s eyes, Dream said, “Sleep now, my friend. Your work is done.”

       At once, Methos drifted off into sated slumber.

       Teddy helped the Highlander put on his robe. As he stood up, still weak, Duncan wobbled a bit. Dream quickly held on to his arm and waist, steadying him.

       “Are you all right?” he asked in concern.

       Duncan glanced briefly at his sleeping lover and smiled. “Never felt better.”

       “Come, Highlander,” Dream then said softly. “There is only one thing left for us to do.”

 

       It seemed like the entire city of Seacouver had decided to turn in early for the night, which was unusual this close to Christmas. Only a few cars roamed the freeways. But the Scot didn’t notice the change in his surroundings. All he could think about was the growing ache in his belly.

       “Where are you taking me?” Duncan asked between pain-filled gasps. “I feel like we’ve been walking for hours. Are we still too far?”

       Dream was leading the Highlander towards the docks, heading for the deserted warehouses in the area. “It won’t be long now. I just want us to go some place where no one could possibly disturb us.”

       Duncan placed his hand over his aching abdomen. “It feels so heavy. Why does it hurt so much? What is happening to me?”

       “Don’t be afraid,” Teddy assured him. The bear was walking alongside him. “Trust us.”

       Though the pain was agonizing, the Scot nodded his head.

       Thirty minutes later, they reached a dilapidated warehouse. When they went inside, Duncan, at last, sank to his knees.

       “I’m sorry,” he declared with a gasp. “I can’t walk any further.”

       Dream surveyed his surroundings. “This place will do.”

       The Highlander cried out, feeling a strong spasm inside him. His belly was as hard as a rock. He felt like he was going to explode.

       “My lord, help me!” he screamed, begging the Dream King.

       “You’re on your own now. You know what to do,” said Dream. “Let your instinct and your heart guide you.”

       “Duncan, be brave,” Teddy urged him. “It’s all up to you.”

       Closing his eyes, Duncan leaned on his haunches and tried to catch his breath. Somehow, something in himjust clicked. As Dream said, his body knew what it was going to do.

       Gripping his belly with both hands, the Scot willed the Quickening to rise up, engulfing his being. The immense power stirred up a strong breeze that Duncan’s long hair fluttered in the wind. As the breeze slowly lifted him up, the Scot began to glow. Tiny bolts of lightning streaked from his body, unraveling his gossamer robes until the Highlander was naked, surrounded only by the eerie glow and the threads that flew around him. The threads pulsed with the power of the Quickening as it lengthened and stretched, enclosing Duncan in a glowing, pulsating cocoon on the ceiling.

       Worried about the Scot, Dream transported himself and Teddy inside the cocoon. Inside, Duncan was leaning against the soft wall, panting. Blood was streaming between his legs and from his navel.

       “You must get it out of you now,” Dream exclaimed. “Your body is not built to hold it.”

       At these words, blue light sparked three inches above Duncan’s navel. Then, a tiny bolt of lightning streaked down, stopping just above the dark nest of curls at his crotch. Tears fell from Duncan’s eyes as he reached inside the incision the light had created. His fingers probed inside, the pain making him break out into a cold sweat, and found the crystal. Holding it tightly, Duncan slowly pulled it out, whimpering in agony between gritted teeth. Just as he brought it out, he let out a cry of relief. He didn’t even notice that the incision had healed.

       The agony over, the Scot gazed down to find that a pulsating cord emerged from his navel. The other end was attached to the crystal. Looking closely at the gleaming gem, his sweet doe eyes widened in shock.

       “A baby?” Duncan whispered in disbelief, trembling hands raised, hesitant to touch the floating crystal before him. “It’s a baby!”

       True enough, a tiny fetus was growing inside the crystal. He could see the heart pumping vigorously. The dark dots that were the fetus’ eyes seemed to stare right at him. A small piece of the glistening cord was connected to its belly.

       Duncan turned to Dream. “Mine? Is this baby mine?”

       The Lord of the Dreaming’s reply was a smile and a slight nod of his head.

       Holding the crystal in both hands, the Highlander kissed the smooth surface. The aura surrounding the fetus flared a bright pink. Sitting down, he laid it down on his lap.

       For the whole night, Duncan watched as the baby inside the crystal grew. He saw it change, becoming even more human. He longed to caress the large head and touch the tiny stumps that would soon be its hands and feet.

       Reaching the size of 12 weeks, the Scot marveled at the sight of tiny fingers and toes beginning to form. At 20 weeks size, Duncan gasped when he saw its sex for the first time.

       “It’s a boy!” he exclaimed. “I have a beautiful baby boy!”

       “What are you going to name him?” queried Dream in amusement.

       “Theodore, I hope,” Teddy piped in.

       At that name, there was a red flash inside the crystal. The fetus grasped the umbilical cord and tugged on it urgently. It also gave the cord a quick kick.

       “I felt that,” Duncan giggled, looking at Teddy. “I don’t think my baby wants to be called Theodore.”

       Then, a small voice whispered to the Scot. Duncan could have sworn it was the child’s voice he heard inside his mind.

       “What does he want to be called, Duncan?” asked Dream, knowing that the baby was indeed communicating with his parent.

       The Highlander answered, “Sean Richard. His name is Sean Richard.”

       “A beautiful name for a handsome boy,” commented Dream in approval.

       “Hummphhh!” said the bear in indignation. “I liked Theodore better.”

       Picking up the loyal toy, Duncan kissed it on the head and cradled Teddy in his arms along with the crystal. “Oh my dear, sweet Teddy! That’s the name my son wants. Please don’t be sore with him.” With a smile, he added, “Sean Richard said he wants you to take care him, the same way you took care of me. Would you do that? Would you be my son’s guardian?”

       Teddy hugged the Scot. “I’ll do anything for you, Duncan!” Gazing at the baby inside the crystal, the bear mused, “To think a lot of women choose not to have children. Some even say that a fetus isn’t human when it’s only a few days or weeks old. But you know differently, don’t you, Duncan? You’ve seen your son grow right before your eyes.”

       “Aye!” the Highlander exclaimed, hugging the crystal tightly. “And I wouldn’t exchange this experience for the world.”

       It was only a few minutes to midnight when the babe reached nine months old. The crystal finally cracked, disintegrating into sand, same as the umbilical cord. Duncan caught the baby easily as it dropped into his arms. Carefully, the Scot wrapped the child up in his long, silken tresses. When Sean Richard began to cry, he gently pressed the child close to his nipple. Feeling the hard nub brush his cheek, the baby’s lips latched on tightly to the tit, sucking eagerly.

       The birthing process completed, the cocoon began to unravel, forming once more into the silk robe, covering the Highlander’s bare form. Duncan slowly floated back down to the ground, baby in his arms.

       Just as his feet touched the dirt floor, Duncan felt a sudden wave of dizziness. Things were becoming blurry inside his mind. At that moment, the clock in the distant cathedral began to chime.

       “My Lord!” he cried out in alarm, pressing his hand to his temple. “Something’s wrong!”

       Even Dream was at a loss. “Duncan, what is it? What’s wrong?”

       “Like my mind is being drained. What’s happening?”

       At that moment, Desire and Despair appeared before them. “My dear brother! You have lost this time!” said Desire proudly.

       “What the hell are you talking about?” Dream demanded.

       “You forgot to ask Dr. Dawson everything he knew about Immortal physiology. Haven’t you ever wondered why Immortals are orphans? Deep inside their minds, there is a mechanism, if you could call it that, that would make the parent forget he or she had borne offspring.”

       Duncan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Though a fog was slowly covering his mind, he held on protectively to his son. “What is she talking about?”

       “It’s actually for your own good, Highlander,” Despair replied. “It’s for your survival. How would you feel, knowing that the Immortal you might face in the future could be your own son? If you forget, there won’t be any guilt if you kill him, or if he kills you. It is your destiny to fight to the death. Remember? In the end, there can be only one.”

       “No,” Duncan shouted in fury. “I will never forget my own son. I’ve waited so long, suffered so much. I will never let him go.”

       “Never?” Desire said sarcastically. “Already your mind is becoming clouded. After the twelfth chime, you will forget this ever happened. And your son – your poor, newborn son – will belong to someone else.”

       Weeping, the Highlander looked pleadingly at Dream, clutching his son tightly. “You said this child is a gift. Why would you take him away from me? I beg you, my lord! Help me keep my son!”

       As the memories began to fade, Duncan vaguely heard the Lord of the Dreaming’s reply. “Forgive me, Duncan! I’m so sorry I have failed you!”

       Kissing his son’s brow one last time, the Highlander whispered, “I love you, Sean Richard, my dear son! Though I may forget you, remember me!”

       Then, lying down on the dirt floor, the darkness of oblivion overcame him.

 

       Early the next morning, Methos woke up feeling very refreshed, like he was a new man. He hardly remembered what he dreamed last night, but he knew it had something to do with Duncan.

       After a quick shower, he decided to go over to the dojo on Cambie Street and have breakfast there instead. Knowing full well what a great cook his lover was, Methos figured he could convince Duncan to whip them up some pancakes so they could indulge themselves in some sinful engorging.

       But when he went up to the loft on the Fifth Floor, his elation turned to worry. Huddled on the floor by the bed was the Highlander. Duncan was crying uncontrollably, his body trembling all over. He was wrapped up in the comforter. Teddy’s head poked out from the opening under his chin. In his distraught state, the young Immortal hadn’t felt Methos’ arrival.

       So as not to startle him, Methos slowly approached the shaking figure. Kneeling down before his lover, it was then that he saw the bloodstains on Duncan’s exposed leg. The ancient remembered the first time something like this happened – nine months back, in a cabin by the lake. Again, he felt the rage building up inside him. Methos quickly quelled the impulse to hurt. Instead, he embraced the trembling young man, letting his love and comfort traverse the link that he knew existed between them.

       “Hush, Angel!” he mumbled softly. “Don’t weep! It’s all right now! I’m here!” Though reluctant, Methos pulled away, wiping away Duncan’s tears with his hands. “Tell me what happened. Did someone hurt you?”

       In a halting manner, the Scot answered him. But it was not the reply Methos expected.

       “I...I had a dream,” Duncan stuttered.

       “It must have been a nightmare.”

       The younger man shook his head. “It was a wonderful dream. Teddy was in it, too. But I can’t remember it. I tried so hard to remember what was in my dream, but my mind doesn’t seem to work.”

       “Dreams are like that, Duncan,” Methos assured him. “More often than not, you forget them when you wake up in the morning.”

       “But I know this is one dream I should remember, especially when I awoke this morning with blood allover me. My heart is telling me that I should. I feel like I lost something very important. Like a part of me...no, US...is missing. But no matter how hard I try and think, I still can’t remember my dream.”

       Methos took Duncan into his arms. “Forget about it, Angel. Whatever it is you dreamed about, it was not meant for you to remember.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 

       However, in the two days that followed, the dream still haunted the Highlander. Methos watched as his melancholy lover listlessly puttered around in the dojo. Hoping to snap Duncan out of his depression, he coaxed the Scot to join him for some last minute Christmas shopping at the mall. Somehow, they got separated. It was near closing time when he found Duncan. He was sitting before the giant Christmas tree laden with toys. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

       When Methos asked why he was crying, Duncan’s bewildered reply was, “I don’t know.”

       Christmas Eve. The ancient was wondering if they should retire for the night earlier. Duncan was obviously not in the mood for holiday cheer. The Scot had snuggled up close to him, Teddy in his arms. At first, he thought the Highlander had dozed off, until he felt the wetness of tears on his shirt.

       “Father Christmas won’t like it if he sees you crying, Angel,” Methos kidded him.

       “Father Christmas doesn’t exist,” said Duncan bitterly. “Besides, Santa Claus is for kids.”

       Unknown to the two Immortals, Despair, Desire and Dream were watching them.

       “Congratulations, sister,” Desire told her twin. “The Highlander is all yours!” Smugly, it turned to her older brother. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself now, Dream?”

       “Is there something I should say, Desire?” queried Dream. “Ah, yes! There is something appropriate –‘You win some, you lose some.’ However, though I may have lost this little game of yours, I don’t think Duncan MacLeod belongs to Despair.”

       Before the twins could ask him what he meant, they heard the rumble of the ascending lift. It stopped at the loft. The gates were raised and Teresa Cortez stepped out, a moving bundle of blue flannel cradled in her arms.

       “Good evening!” she greeted the two men cheerfully. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

       “Tell her to go away, Methos!” Duncan mumbled to Methos as he stood up to go to the bed.

       As he said this, the wail of a baby filled the air, causing the Scot to pause. Methos rushed to the woman’s side to see.

       “Who’s this you have here, Mrs. Cortez?” queried the ancient.

       “This baby was found three nights ago in an abandoned warehouse near the docks,” Teresa answered. “You’re probably not aware of this but we have a program wherein, every Christmas, we allow prospective foster parents to bring home the babies in the nursery for the holiday season. For some strange reason, this little boy doesn’t seem to like to go with any of the foster parents. He would just cry and cry and I was afraid he might get sick. Since he’s the only child left in the nursery and there’s no staff and I really can’t take him home with me, I decided to bring him here.” She looked knowingly at the surprised Highlander. “You have a special kind of magic with children, Mr. MacLeod, and I know how much you wanted a baby. Since this is a special case, the board has agreed, with my recommendation, to let you have this little boy for the holidays. If they see that you are a suitable parent, they might let you keep him.”

       “Look at him, Duncan!” Methos urged his lover. “He’s a very handsome baby!”

       Almost fearful, Duncan slowly went towards Mrs. Cortez and the crying child. Peering into the thick flannel, tears began to fall from his eyes, a joyous smile forming on his lips. As soon as he took the baby in his arms, the child stopped crying. The baby looked at the Highlander in awe. Then raising his little arms, he let out a delightful, gurgling laugh.

       Teresa found herself staring at the baby and then at the two men before her. The child looked a lot like Duncan, though his hair was the same shade as Methos’ tousled locks. She felt like she was standing before the baby’s parents.

       “Will you take him into your home, Mr. MacLeod?” Teresa asked, though she knew what his answer would be.

       Kissing the child’s brow, Duncan smiled at her. “Yes, Mrs. Cortez! Oh, yes!”

       Desire and Despair were fuming mad.

       “This is unfair,” Desire shouted at its brother. “You cheated!”

       “I did no such thing,” Dream replied. “As per the rules of your game, you have won.”

       “Then, how come he is free from my realm?” demanded Despair. “Immortals are not supposed to be reunited with their own children. You tricked us. You fulfilled the Highlander’s wish, even after the game has ended.”

       “No, I did not. Neither did the Scot wish for this. How could he, when he doesn’t remember he has a son?”

       “How did this happen?” asked Desire, infuriated.

       “Sean Richard,” Dream answered simply. “Duncan asked the child to remember him and he did. It was Sean Richard’s wish I granted. He wanted to be reunited with his father.” Looking at the happy Scot and the gurgling babe in his arms, Dream smiled. “Who am I to deny such a simple thing as a wish of a child?”

 

 

**CONTINUED IN _THE TEDDY BEAR TALES 3: PUPPY LOVE_**

 


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